


work me out

by beili



Series: jack of spades [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Size Difference, Smut, alternative continuity, brief mention of kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beili/pseuds/beili
Summary: It’s not Kolya’s fault that Katya finds him terribly, infuriatingly attractive. ItisKatya’s fault he chooses to act on that attraction.





	work me out

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of alternative continuity, in which Katya and Kolya are not just coworkers and friends, but also occasional fuckbuddies. Set some time before any events of [the main story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009057), to avoid potential relationship conflicts. Like [the rule of thirds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13680093), it's not meant to be canon, just a pornlet on the rocks with a dash of feelings.

It’s not Kolya’s fault that sometimes he leaps without looking, or that his assessment of danger is too brief by other people’s standards. He always hits the ground running, or so he would like everyone else to believe.

It’s not Katya’s fault that he isn’t everyone, that he’s close enough to see the bruises, often literal, rising to the surface through Kolya’s skin, afterwards. It’s not his fault he’s been at it half his life and knows how to see through the bluster and the bullshit. It may be his fault that he is one of the reasons Kolya gets hurt, sometimes, though Kolya is not going to say so.

Somewhere, in this mutual not-laying of blame, is the hidden extra layer, covered by the thin veneer of normalcy and societal expectations, one that Katya’s mind keeps scratching at, like a bad phonograph needle. 

“Will you quit pacing?” Katya growls, for what feels like a thousandth time that day. “You’ve worn a groove in the carpet. It’s not going to make the time go faster, you know?”

“It’s been eight hours,” Kolya says. His back is a single, taut line of tension, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “What the hell is taking them so long? Too much can happen in eight hours.”

It’s not Kolya’s fault that Katya finds him terribly, infuriatingly attractive, even with both of them cooped up in a hotel room for the better part of the day and ready to climb the walls out of frustration. 

It _is_ Katya’s fault he chooses to act on that attraction.

“You keep talking,” Katya says, from where he’s sprawled in an overstuffed armchair. He knows he sounds irate even to his own ears. The pacing’s gotten to him more than he’d thought. “When you could be doing literally anything else. And I could make you shut up.”

“Promises,” Kolya says, his tone distracted, with that maddening little smile of his, and abruptly, Katya has had enough. 

He gets up and double-locks the door. Then he picks Kolya up one-handed and throws him on the bed, face first. The way Kolya bounces a little on impact is very satisfying; so is the tiny surprised sound he makes at being manhandled. Katya palms himself through the jeans, then pops the button and drags the zipper down.

“Stay,” Katya says, his tone steely and his palm heavy between Kolya’s shoulder blades, when Kolya tries to push himself back up, to turn around. “I want to fuck you. Like this. You up for it?”

This time, when Kolya pushes upwards, with more force, Katya lets him go. Kolya leans on one elbow, takes a good long look at Katya over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he says, finally. His hair has fallen into his face, and voice is hoarse, like he’s been shouting. “As long as you’re not gentle about it. Come here.”

He groans when Katya straddles his hips and shoves him into the duvet, and again when Katya’s large hand settles on the back of his neck.

“You want that cute little ass plowed,” Katya says. It’s not a question. Kolya’s buttocks are a perfect fit for his hands; Katya is painfully hard, and they have barely started. “I’ll make you feel it for a week.”

He rubs his still-clothed cock against Kolya’s bum, gets a hand under him to open Kolya’s pants. “Take them off,” he says, moving back, and watches as Kolya pushes his own jeans and underwear down with shaking hands. He wants it. Katya’s cock is a lot to take, but they’ve been at it just this morning. He’d still be open a bit.

“Good,” Katya says, “on your knees, boy. Take your shirt off and put your hands on the headboard.”

Kolya does as he’s told, whimpering when Katya drags his pants down to his knees, then wraps a slick hand around Kolya’s half-hard cock and gives him a few good pumps. He hates being told what to do, but he likes this, Katya pushing him and ordering him around, his hole wet and hungry for Katya’s thick fingers and his thicker cock. 

Katya slicks and gives him two, just to start; Kolya’s still a bit loose from their go in the morning, a little puffy and sensitive, writhing on Katya’s fingers as they push inside. He moans when Katya adds a thumb of his other hand, not wet enough, and pulls him open, like Katya wants to see inside of him. Kolya whimpers again when Katya drizzles some more lube into his crack, then goes back with four; he clings to Katya’s fingers, the squelch of the slick filling the room. 

“Talk,” Katya says, and drags Kolya’s head up until his neck is a taught line. Kolya will bitch about lube in his hair, but he loves this, too. “Sing like a pretty bird you are.”

“Don’t be a tease, Katya,” Kolya pants. “Come on, give it to me. Give me your cock.”

When asked so nicely, Katya can’t disobey. He lets go of Kolya, who slumps forward, holding himself up with trembling arms; he rolls the condom on and slicks himself up generously, leans down and kisses the base of Kolya’s spine, quick, open-mouthed and wet, and then he lines up and notches the head of his cock to Kolya’s hole. 

He’s not quite prepared for how easily it starts to slide home. Usually, Kolya tries to cling to him, to make Katya push in harder, to make it feel like there’s some resistance; it gets them both seriously revved up. There’s no resistance now, Kolya wet and hot around him, almost like a girl, almost like the slick is his own body welcoming Katya in where he belongs. 

It’s a dangerous thought; Katya will come too early if they don’t slow down, and then Kolya will be cross with him. It can be its own sort of fun, getting him to relent, but they don’t have that kind of time now. So Katya pauses, lets gravity pull them together until he bottoms out and Kolya is panting and moaning at how full he feels. His head hangs down between his arms, and Katya kisses up his spine, scrapes his teeth over the back of Kolya’s neck, pinches his nipples. 

“Come on,” Kolya hisses. “Come on, you big tease, do it. Do it. I won’t break.”

“I liked your singing voice better,” Katya chides, pulling out slowly, and times his thrust to Kolya’s mouth opening for a scathing retort. What comes out instead is a moan, and then another, as Katya picks up speed, his hips slapping against Kolya’s ass, his cock pushing deep into that sweet slick heat. 

Katya will never be over how hungry that pert little backside is. If he had to make a list of things he’d do forever, one of the points would’ve been giving it to Kolya nice and hard. Face down and biting into a pillow, bouncing on Katya’s cock or clinging to his shoulders, it just doesn’t matter; Kolya takes everything Katya gives him, and he does it beautifully. 

“I want you just like this,” Katya whispers into Kolya’s ear, because it’s right there, and why the hell not? He licks inside the delicate shell, to make Kolya’s mouth open helplessly, no sound coming out. “But wearing black. Stockings, and a cock ring. Nice and tight, like your sweet little ass, to keep you from coming until I say that you can. What do you say, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Katya,” Kolya hisses. “Fuck. Touch me, you bastard.”

His cock jerks when Katya’s fingers wrap around him, and then he’s coming, head thrown back, mouth open and eyes screwed shut. His hole spasms around Katya, and Katya only gets two more good thrusts in before he’s coming, too. Kolya’s arms give out, and they fall into the bed in a barely-coordinated heap of limbs, Katya’s softening cock slipping out. 

Kolya is, to put it mildly, a mess; Katya leans in and kisses the nearest part of him, which turns out to be a shoulder, then behind his ear. 

“You good?” Katya asks, nuzzling at Kolya’s neck and the back of his head. 

“Yeah,” Kolya murmurs. He looks and sounds fucked out and languid with it. He turns to face Katya and pecks him lightly on the lips, an incongruously sweet gesture. “I’ll pick up the ring if you get the outfit,” and Katya’s traitorous cock, all limp not a minute ago, twitches. “Want something else to go with it?”

That mouth will be the death of him. Katya traces it with his knuckles, tugs at Kolya’s lower lip to lick into his mouth, holds Kolya’s chin firmly to push his tongue inside until neither of them can breathe. 

“Maybe a gag,” Katya says, and a smirk tugs at the corner of Kolya’s lips. 

“We’ll see,” he says. 


End file.
